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cupid-styles · 1 month

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casual

partially based on casual by chappell roan and a lil bit of sad personal experience hehe

word count: 2k

content warnings: angst (no happy ending), references to smut, alcohol, harry being a douche, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

From: H (12:47 a.m.)

Come over?

To: H (12:50 a.m.)

Give me 15

From: H (12:52 a.m.)

. . .

It’s not unusual for her nights to look like this. Or her early mornings, rather.

It wasn’t always this way. When she first met Harry, she wanted nothing to do with him romantically or intimately. She’d heard about his reputation — it wasn’t anything bad as long as you were looking for the same thing. He was an expert in bed and the friends that slept with him always provided rave reviews. Ever excited rumblings of, “oh my God, he’s so caring! He made me finish twice before he even took his cock out” and “he’s the perfect one night stand — seriously, I’ve never had anyone better.”

But Y/N didn’t care for that.

She was a serial monogamous, always bumping around from one lengthy relationship to the next. In hindsight, she supposes she wasn’t any better than Harry, who earned his notoriety from a series — a long series — of casual hookups.

If you needed a rebound, you went to Harry.

If you were going through a dry spell, you went to Harry.

If you were just horny and needed someone to go home with at the end of the night (and he hadn’t miraculously already found somebody else yet), you went to Harry.

And Y/N never planned to sleep with him. Ever, really. He was a fine friend, someone who mixed well with their mutual friends, but they hardly exchanged conversation except for the occasional nicetie. She had his phone number from when he planned Rachel’s surprise birthday party last year and they were friends on Venmo, passing back the same $20 every month for drinks or a shared Uber.

That was the extent of their friendship.

Until a few months back, when Y/N was down in the dumps. She’d been seeing this girl, Samantha, for a month or two, assuming that they were headed straight towards a happy, exclusive relationship — only to discover that Samantha was sleeping with and seeing just about 10 other people on the side. And it only came out because Samantha happened to contract chlamydia from one of her sexual partners, so she’d been forced to tell Y/N for the sake of her health.

Y/N's friends, Rachel, Maeve, and Len gave her time to wallow. They offered it to her on a silver platter, even, offering multiple girls nights out (and in), providing Y/N all the space she needed to cry and complain and talk about how hurt she felt.

But then… a week of moping turned into two, which turned into three, which eventually turned into a month and a half. Her friends were exhausted from watching her spiral into sadness, so they did the only thing they knew: They sat her down and told her she needed to rebound. Fast.

“And who the hell am I supposed to rebound with?” Y/N asked through a sniffle. The only thing that made this whole thing worse was her friends staging an intervention for her because she was being annoyingly sad about her not-really-breakup-but-felt-like-a-breakup. “See, that’s the best part of being friends with a man whore,” Maeve replied eagerly. Len and Rachel sat on either side of her with bright eyes, nodding excitedly. “Harry! He already said he’s down and everything!” “Wait— you already asked him?” “We just put the idea in his head. Don’t worry, men are stupid,” Len quickly waved her off, “But he’s going out with everyone tonight. We’ll feed you a few shots to get you just buzzy enough, and then send you off to your night in heaven. You won’t even remember that girl’s name by the time Harry’s done with you!” Y/N cringed. “Hasn’t, like… everyone slept with him though?” Maeve shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s clean. He gets regular testing and uses condoms. Really, Y/N, it’s sort of a rite of passage at this point. But you should do it only if you’re comfortable— don’t let us force you into it.” Y/N swallowed tightly. She had to admit, the thought of a rebound sounded… appealing. She’d swiped through dating apps looking for one, but she was too scared that a one night stand would end in her bloody murder. And it helped that Harry already knew what he was doing, and— wait, was she crazy or was she actually starting to consider this? “Alright, fine,” she replied with a shaky exhale, “Let’s do this.”

That was four months ago.

And what was supposed to be an evening of stupid, lusty, casual sex turned into Y/N falling hard. It wasn��t her fault, though — no, not when he panted breathy promises into her mouth in the back of the Uber, mumblings of “just tonight, you know that, right?”. She’d replied just how she’d rehearsed it in her brain hours prior: “yes, yeah, I know— just tonight. Just for tonight.”

"Just for tonight" shifted into Harry asking her to stay until the morning for breakfast and shower sex. Then, the following weekend, he texted her the ever classy you still awake? at just past midnight. She was indeed up, doing nothing but rotting on her couch and watching a documentary about the deep sea — and her hookup with Harry had been good, really good, and she wasn’t going to turn down another night of orgasms.

As he wrapped a condom around his dick and pressed messy kisses down her neck, he whispered the same hurried sentiments from the weekend before: “didn’t see anyone I wanted tonight and we were good, yeah? It was good. So just… just one more night, okay? That’s fine, right?”

Foolishly, with flittering eyelashes and her nails scraping down her back as he pushed inside, she nodded and echoed his words. Just one more night, that’s fine.

It didn’t take long for their friends to catch on when Harry would leave the bar an hour early without looking for someone to take home. Or, when they’d both be out and, like magnets slowly being pulled towards one another, they’d end up kissing on the street as they waited for an Uber to take them back to Harry’s place.

The guys hounded Harry about it, asking if Y/N was finally the one to tie him down.

“Nah,” he’d reply with a shake of his head, “She’s a good girl. Too good for me.”

When Y/N’s friends demanded to know every last detail, she shrugged.

"I'm not really sure. It's... good, I think."

They only responded with small, tight smiles.

. . .

“Your mom texted me today. She invited us to come see them this weekend.”

Harry doesn’t reply — or rather, he makes an unassuming humming noise — as he gets out of Y/N’s bed, untangling his naked form from her sheets. He hunts down his briefs and pulls them on before stretching his arms out.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asks, grabbing her tee-shirt off the floor and tossing it to her. She sits up, tightening the sheet around her chest. She shakes her head as she clutches the fabric of her shirt in her hands and watches him scroll on his phone.

“No. I thought we could get something.”

Harry hums again, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. Swallowing, Y/N puts her shirt back on. She’s not sure why, but she always feels oddly vulnerable once they’ve finished hooking up. When she’s still naked and he’s already moved onto the next thing, like having plans with the guys or taking a shower before he heads home. She'd even purchased his favorite body wash and shampoo when he started sticking around a bit longer, but he'd never even mentioned it or uttered a thank you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he finally replies. He locks his phone and places it back on the ledge of the TV stand in her bedroom. The simple act makes her heart jump — usually, he’ll stuff his phone in his pocket as he’s leaving. Maybe he was planning on staying the night. “So listen, I know I took you to dinner at my parents’ place that one time, but I don’t really feel comfortable with you talking to my mom.”

Y/N furrows her brows in confusion. “She texted me, H. I don’t, like, regularly reach out to her.”

“Right, but it just makes this whole thing feel way more serious than it is.” he says, sitting back down on the bed. He maintains a steady distance between them and it makes a small lump form in Y/N’s throat.

“Okay,” she murmurs slowly, “That’s fine, I get it. But… we never really talked about what this is.”

Harry glances up with wide, confused eyes. “We’ve said it a million times, Y/N. This is casual. Completely and totally casual sex.”

An ugly, involuntary chortle leaves her chest. He raises his eyebrows.

“We’ve been fucking for four months. That’s not really casual.”

“Yes, it is. It’s friends with benefits.”

“Sure, maybe, but that’s if you explicitly outline that you’re just having sex. No feelings involved.”

“We did that.”

“When?”

“At the beginning,” Harry responds. He seems frustrated now, but it feels as though he’s recalling a memory that Y/N was never even around for. “Remember? I told you, it was all just for tonight type shit. Nothing real.”

“Then why the fuck did you take me to your parents’ house two months ago?” Y/N demands, anger rising in her chest, “And why am I your date to all of your stupid, boring work events? And why the hell are you at my house like four times a week, and why do you have a drawer full of my clothes at your place?”

“Y/N—”

“This isn’t fucking casual, Harry. This is dating. You’re dating me and you don't even realize it.”

“I would know if I was dating you, but I never asked you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want a girlfriend, you know that.”

She groans and shakes her head, ignoring the way her jaw already aches from clenching it so hard. She grabs a clear pair of underwear from her drawer and quickly slips them on. Harry’s silent the entire time.

Suddenly, she whips around and faces him. “Have you been fucking other people?”

A wrinkle forms between his brows. He shakes his head.

“No. I wouldn’t do that, and it’s unsafe.”

“Right,” she murmurs, placing her hands on her hips, “So piece it together, Harry. Neither of us are sleeping with other people. We’re exclusively seeing one another.”

“You’re just making this out to be way more of a thing than it is—”

“Oh, fuck off!” she exclaims, “You have a key to my house! That’s pretty serious!”

“I didn’t ask you for that!” he fires back as he stands up from the bed. They’re in a stand-off now, staring at one another with angry eyes. She snorts and shakes her head in disbelief.

“My friends were so fucking right about you. You’re such an asshole. You know Maeve called me a loser for thinking you were a good guy?”

Harry rolls his eyes as he grabs his phone and sweater, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

They don’t exchange any other words as he leaves her room. She sits back down on the edge of the mattress, listening as he stuffs his feet in his sneakers and slams the front door shut. She doesn’t even notice that tears are lining her eyes and falling onto the apples of her cheeks.

. . .

It’s barely 48 hours later when Y/N’s watching a YouTube video as she stands in the bathroom, doing her nighttime routine.

Like four months prior, when she hoped Harry would be a good rebound for her heartbreak, she's been moping around in self-hatred and sadness. She's in awe of how cruel and oblivious he's being, but more than that, she can't believe she actually believed he had real feelings for her. Ones that extended beyond sex.

She’s brushing her teeth when she notices a text notification come down, redirecting her attention from the influencer vlog to read the name of the sender. She taps on it to see a familiar initial.

From: H (10:32 p.m.)

Sorry for what I said. Can I come over?

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 3 months

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I hear you at night

Requested: No

Warnings: Suggestive talk, mentions of masturbation, flirting, extremely bad dialogue because I don’t know how people talk

“How often do you cum while thinking about your Lieutenant?”

You blinked at Ghost, your eyes wide and disbelieving, your hands starting to shake by your side. Completely taken off guard by the sudden and intrusive question. “What?” You ask, not even sure you heard him right. You must be mistaken. There was no way your superior would say something so bold, so crass, out of nowhere like that.

“How often-” He leaned in, caging you against the wall, his hands on either side of you, ensuring you couldn’t just run off and avoid his prying eyes and words. “Do you cum while thinking about me, Sargaent?” He repeated, eyes sparkling with delight at the mix of discomfort and slight arousal that was playing across your face.

“Never.” You say, back straightening and hands clenched tightly at your sides, trying to give off an air of confidence to hide your obvious lie. Trying not to think back to just last night when you had your fingers shoved up your lubed hole, panting out his name as you came. “That is a rather inappropriate question, Lieutenant. Especially for you.”

Ghost simply hums at your answer, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, eyes crinkled in a way that tells you he’s holding back laughter. He doesn’t believe you, clearly. And you can’t even blame him because the words sounded like a lie even to you. No real conviction behind them, weak and hesitant. Of course Ghost would see right through them.

“Never, huh?” He whispers, one gloved hand coming up to rest on your throat, applying only the lightest bit of pressure against your trachea. “So last night in the safe house, when I couldn’t sleep and all I could hear was the sound of you fucking yourself while moaning my name, that was never? Or have I finally lost my mind, just hearing things in the middle of the night?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up at his accusations, fists clenching tightly into the fabric of your loose pants as you struggle to respond, his elation only growing at every second that passes without a peep from you. The way you avoid his eyes, avoid his entire being really. Staring down at your feet like he wasn’t even there.

“I’m not complaining, Love. Might’ve just been the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. You fucking yourself to the thought of me. Bet I could outdo any little fantasy you have built up in your head.” He tells you, his hand giving the faintest squeeze around your windpipe, sending molten lava through your veins to pool in your belly and between your legs.

He could make it good. You know he could. Ruin you for any other man. Wrap his hand around your throat just like this as he fucked your hole until it was loose and sore. Like it was made for him. Make you dumb for his cock and his cock only, just like you imagined late at night in your bunk, trying to keep quiet so the other soldiers wouldn’t hear your soft whines and the sound of wet skin as you fingered yourself.

You wanted it.

But not if he didn’t want you just as badly as you’d been wanting him.

Steeling yourself, you smirk at him, giving a mocking tilt of your head as you meet his eyes. “And how many times have you cum while thinking about me, Lieutenant?” You asked, watching his brown eyes widen before narrowing at your boldness.

“Lost count, Love. At least once a night every night since you came to base and I saw that pretty ass of yours when you were doing push ups.” He says with a hum, trailing his fingers against your sides before pushing his hand behind your back, resting on your lower spine, fingertips lightly playing with the waistband of your pants. “Thought about you beneath me, on top of me, fucking you with my cock or fingers until you cry. Thought about eating you out for hours, making you dumb in the head til you can’t think about anything but me.” He practically purred in your ear, sugary sweet but so rough as well. You didn’t want to talk about what that voice of his did to you, but you were pretty sure he already knew.

“Yeah?” You whisper, turning your head, your nose brushing up against him, an intimate gesture that had you shivering. That look in his eyes burning through you. “You wanna know what I think about at night, LT?” You ask, biting into your lip to keep from giggling at how his eyes darken.

“I’m not opposed to hearing it, Love.” He says, pulling you closer, the fly of his pants dragging against your skin, the zipper cold and hard, scraping roughly. “So go on, tell me what you think about when you cum on those pretty fingers. Tell what you gets you going so much that you gotta cry my name just to get some relief.”

You hum, teasing him with silence for a few moments, running the tip of your nose up and down his crooked one, puffing soft breathes against his lips, so close that if you leaned just a little closer then you’d be kissing. The temptation was strong, but the need to mess with him was stronger.

“I think about you.” You start, feeling his hand on your back slip to your hip, trailing over it before gripping it tightly, bunching up the fabric. “Think about you above me, in me. Fucking me like you own me.” You say, his breathing picking up against your lips, yellow tinged teeth bared the slightest bit. You decide to kick it up the slightest bit, reaching up to trail your fingers along his jaw, the beginning rumblings of some pleased noise vibrating through his chest so hard that you could feel it. “Think about….your big fingers stretching me open. Too much too soon, it hurts a little. In that achy way that feels so good. Think about you kissing me when you fuck me, grabbing me, tossing me around like I’m a doll.”

“Quite the imagination, Love.” Ghost interrupts before you can keep going, dragging his teeth across your bottom lip, one hand on your waist and another on your hip, lifting you up before you can even think. “But like I said, I can do better.”

And you believed him.

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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littlemisssquiggles · 9 days

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The Missed Potential of WISH

It’s funny.

Last year, I really wanted to watch the new Wish animated film from Disney.

While everyone else were hating on the art and animation style, I actually kind of liked it and was genuinely looking forward to possibly viewing it on the big screen.

Then the reviews came in. Needless to say, I didn’t watch Wish.

I remember a time when people used to complain about Disney making “too many love stories”. Then Disney stopped making love stories leading to films like Moana, Coco, Encanto and even Turning Red, which weren't bad.

Following the failure of Wish, the biggest complaint I’ve heard for that film is that “it probably would’ve been more successful if it were a love story”.

The last romance Disney had we’re the protagonist was a “black girl” was Tiana from The Princess and the Frog which was technically their last 2D animated feature film.

And don’t get me wrong, til this day, The Princess and the Frog still tracks. Second to Tangled, I still very much love TPATF and it's one of Disney's classics that definitely have the rewatchability.

That being said, Wish is the first Disney film I've seen where the missed potential of what its story was originally supposed to be (herego a love story between a human girl and shape-shifting star boy) versus what we actually got is more popular.

Aww Disney, what were you thinking?! How could you think a film where the main character, who is a PoC, the first "black girl" (well technically I think Asha is meant to be mixed) female lead/love interest that you've had since Tiana in The Princess and the Frog in 14 YEARS where she is actually human for all of the movie and gets to share a love story with a handsome "star boy" who can literally make all of her dreams come and think that that's NOT gonna make you money!

I haven't even watched Wish yet I've seen more artwork and fan-made animatics of Asha and Star Boy than anything from the actual film.

At this point, Disney should just take all of the original ideas they left on the chopping block for Wish and revise them into a future title which is an actual love story they could market from.

Or…as an audience, we can just wait for one of their competitors, like Dreamworks to smell the blood in the water like the sharks they are and capitalize on Disney’s latest flop by taking the ideas they didn’t use and coming up with something that could potentially usurp the popularity of Wish’s failure.

In the case of Dreamworks, they don’t even need to make a new star boy since, technically, they already have potential “star boy” they can use.

Remember Rise of the Guardians?

Hahaaaaa OF COURSE you do, since it gave us the original immortal boy internet heart throb (also ironically voiced by Chris Pine who played King Magnifico in Wish) ---Jack Frost.

I find it hilarious that another reason why folks are hating on Wish so much is because Disney could've given us another potential immortal boy heart throb "Star Boy" to finally usurp the chokehold that Jack Frost has had on our generation of weebs and artists for the past 12 years since RoTG first dropped.

We could've had it all.

But as I mentioned Rise of the Guardians, did you know that there is character in the original series it was based off of called Nightlight?

While technically not a “star boy”, Nightlight is the closest thing to one in an already established universe from a Dreamworks property and since this squiggle meister never misses a beat to push for continuation of Rise of Guardians, hear me out:

Imagine a Rise of the Guardian prequel-sequel about the character Nightlight and make it a love story.

(Because apparently there's a girl that Nightlight grows close to in his story called Katherine. It's just a friendship but needless to say, there is potential there).

I know it’s been 12 years since Rise of Guardians first dropped and I know I've be hollering for a sequel since 2012.

But c'mon, if there was ever a time for Dreamworks to capitalize on an RoTG sequel, it's now.

As Wish has proven, the internet is hungry for another handsome immortal boy with magical powers.

Dreamworks set the ball rolling with Jack Frost.

If Dreamworks were to revisit RoTG again, take Nightlight's story. Take his design and give him the "Jack Frost" treatment and make it a love story on top of that.

I'm not saying it will happen. Not even saying it could happen.

But if somehow thought becomes reality and something like this does actually happen, whoever does it will be rolling in dough.

This is just a longwinded way of me to say that somebody needs to bank on the concept of a star falling in love with a human and do it now since as the internet has shown, it's what the people want and what Wish failed to give.

~LMS (2024)

#squiggles talks: wish #wish #disney wish #rise of the guardians #jack frost #rotg #rotg nightlight

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ghostingcrows · 10 months

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Okay because generally I’ve been seeing a lot of fighting a weirdness I wanted to talk about this for a second

Hobie Brown is not an adult

Please stop being weird about him!!

More explanations under the cut

I’ve been complaining about this a lot and for people that don’t understand this situation essentially in an interview one of the directors said that an early concept of Hobie design was that he was supposed to be like the cooler older kid and as the example used for this he stated the ages 19/20

Because of this many people took it as still being canon which has led to a large bit of debate in the community between people about his age

The people who have taken this reference to the early concept as canon have started bashing people who ship Hobie with others in the group (mainly Miles and Pav which is important and which I will come back to later) as well as used this as an excuse to sexualize Hobie because hes an adult

A barely legal one which even if this was true is its own separate issue

However the issue with this specific take is that its wrong

For a variety of reasons

1) For starters people say that since the director said he was 19/20 it must be true however another director/creator of the film has stated that Hobies age is up for interpretation meaning he doesn’t have a specific set age

However, it is very clear based off of everything else that Hobie was still meant to be in the teenager range in terms of age

For starters the actual movie

Throughout the first half of the movie Hobie is referred to a couple times by both Gwen and Pav and later Miles

Every time he is talked about in this context it is always with the undertoned implication of him and Gwen supposedly having a romantic relationship with both Pav and Gwen treating it as a sort of thing that could potentially cause friction or other issues in regards to Miles and Gwens relationship

If Hobie really were 19/20 this would be, cannot stress this enough, incredibly weird and creepy on the writers part

Unlike Hobie Gwen does have a confirmed age and she IS a minor and the movie imply that she had a relationship with Hobie whether she actual did or not and treating it as a joke would be weird and out of place if he was an adult

Not to mention that a lot of people referred to Gwen, Hobie and Miles dynamic as a love triangle which again weird and gross and uncalled for if Hobie was an adult

2) The art books both in the english and Japanese translation refer to Hobie in a way that either implies hes a kid or outright uses terms that mean hes a child

In the English translation of the book Hobie is referred to as the cool slightly older boy the girls want to date

Meanwhile the Japanese translation literally spells it out

3) I’ve heard a variety of different deflect in regards to all the above mentioned stuff

“Hobie doesn’t look like a kid” people age differently. I’ve met kids in high school who were the same age as or younger than me with full ass beards and mustaches as well as people who are well into there 20 who look like they’re still 15 he simply just has a structured face

“He was bit at 16 in the comics and said he was spider-man for 3 years in the movie” We aren’t in the comics universe though and in this iteration Miles was bit at like 13 and Gwen at like 14 meaning that in actuality the kids are usually bitten really damn early and the actual facts are that we don’t know how old he was when he was bitten and since we very clearly aren’t in the comic universe as these movies are significantly different from the comics you can’t just go off of that

“Just because it was a concept doesn’t mean it was changed it could still have been kept” While it is true that yes sometimes things from first draft concepts are kept a lot of times they aren’t such as Hobies best friend Pavitr who was supposed to be 13 in his concept but very clearly isn’t in the movie (I don’t actually have solid evidence for that claim I just think it would be weird that they make comments about Pavs body and show him shirtless if he was still 13 in the final-) both Pav and Hobie had a shit ton of changes done to them alongside basically all of the main 4 (Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles), except for maybe Miles but he was already an established character, so using his concept as hard and fast evidence when he very clearly was changed a lot and everything else points toward him being a kid just doesn’t work

“He mentions going to a pub so he has to be at least 21” first Hobie is British and the legal age in Britain is 18 also you don’t have to be of legal drinking age to go into a pub you just have to be old enough to actual order drinks which doesn’t even account for the fact that this is also Hobie we’re talking about who would not give the slightest fucks about the legal drinking age “But they show him with a beer in his montage and they wouldn’t encourage that in an underage character” Hobies montage is so fast paced and colorful that I genuinely don’t even know if thats true because you can barely comprehend the stuff that happens in that scene the first time you see it and not to mention that he also flips off the cops in that montage so I don’t really think they were too concerned about encouraging certain behaviors or not since half of Hobies speech in that scene was about overthrowing governments saying ACAB

So in conclusion

Hobie doesn’t have a confirmed age but based off off all the information we are given he is probably actually closer to 16/17 as his age

Now as a side tangent something else I want to address is the inherent homophobia and racism undertones that came with the initial spreading of his false age

Because when people initially heard that age they’re first instinct wasn’t to jump at the actual movie for imply a ship with Hobie and Gwen or even on the people make jokes about but was instead to jump on the people shipping Hobie with Pav and Miles

Both other male characters who are also characters of color

Odd that the first though was the (honestly at that time) relatively new and unpopular gay poc ships (Yes I know the ships are more popular now they had BARELY any content at the time of the interview)

Like genuinely the absolute giddy JOY I saw some people have at the idea that people who were minding their own business would have had a ship they liked ruined for them was insane and still is to me

#Imma be honest I'm fairly confident that age estimate is right and its gonna be really awkward if the next movie fucks me by saying hes old #spider-man across the spider-verse #ATSV #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #miles morales #gwen stacy #punkflower #chaipunk #this debate gives me a headache and I hate it

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softomegaposting · 8 months

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in honor of my backache from sleeping in my nest on the floor last night (a hardwood floor covered with a sheepskin and a throw blanket) i wanna talk about nest mattresses! in real life and worldbuilding. disclaimer that my knowledge comes from mostly online so it’s probably not completely accurate.

so! cool floor beds i found that would make good nest bases.

the type of bed i could find the most on online is the Japanese futon. it’s what the western futon/sofa bed was originally modeled after but it’s very different. it’s basically a very thin mattress (shikifuton) over tatami mats (rush grass outer layer with a foam or rice straw core). both parts are much more moveable than a western style mattress. another important consideration i think is relevant is that futon covers go all the way around the mattress and can be washed (unlike western sheets which leave the bottom of the mattress uncovered which if it’s on the floor can get gross). futons are also meant to be aired out in the sun, which helps the whole dust thing.

another cool bed type i found are montessori-style house beds. they’re typically used for young children (toddlers and preschoolers) but do come in larger sizes (the biggest i’ve seen is a full). the bed frame sits directly on the floor with a thin mattress and a wooden house-shape on top that can support a canopy/curtains (which would be super cool for a nest lets be real). some also come with bed rails and bumpers so little kids don’t fall out, which i think would also be good for a nest because it’s more cozy.

of course i must mention the “human dog beds” which gained popularity in 2022 from going on shark tank but i remember first hearing about them around 2015-ish (and of course going that would make a great nest!). it is what it sounds like.

another, probably the cheapest option here, is camping mattresses. you know what these are. super thin air mattresses with foam tops. some come in double width (better for a nest imo) but most of them are made of that terrible slippery fabric (good for camping, bad for everything else). this might not be a problem for most people but i’m autistic and i gag touching them. you could cover it with a rug or blanket but those might slip off of it due to the gross slipperiness of the fabric. idk.

the last thing i can think of are traditional mattresses that are just. thin. you could use a mattress topper but a real mattress would definitely feel better even if they’re the same height because real mattresses have a comfort layer and a base layer and a topper only has the comfort layer (=more back pain for you). consider: dorm mattresses (at least my dorm had them, and it made an amazing nest), rv mattresses, and trundle mattresses. they’re all basically the same thing just different keywords (and slightly different sizes for the rvs). my sister has slept on a 4 inch mattress for six years or so and she only occasionally complains of back pain but for occasional use it would be fine (she also has scoliosis so. could be that).

now for some quick worldbuilding notes:

i definitely think that in an omegaverse society nest mattresses would be common. i think they would mimic traditional mattresses but shorter, like rv mattresses, but have an all-around washable cover/sheets to protect from floor grossness, sort of like dorm mattresses but able to be washed more easily. i also think they would come in more square or round shapes instead of the typical rectangle twin shape. i can see them having folding capabilities like some rv mattresses do, so that people could sun them like futons to get rid of dust mites.

i can also see nest frames being a thing, sort of like the montessori bedframes, with pillow bumpers to make a more enclosed vibe. i can also see a huge market for both frame-mounted or ceiling-mounted canopies, because who doesn’t want that.

maybe houses would be built with specific nest areas in mind, maybe with softer floors like tatami vibes or carpet. i’ve heard talk about conversation pits which are absolutely so cool but i can also see the advantage in an elevated nest space. my favorite nest of all time was in a ceiling cabinet because i could see the whole room but was harder to see myself, which made me feel really safe. so maybe houses might be built with raised nest platforms, or even small ceiling lofts overlooking a larger room (i couldn’t find an exact picture of what i’m thinking but this is close:)

#happy omega thursday everybody #i made this instead of doing morning chores. sorry to the pets and also my ma.#this is a cool post i prommy #miscecanis #miscelupus #misceanimalis #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #omegaverse headcanons #omegaverse worldbuilding #omegaverse nest #nesting #a/b/o verse #a/b/o dynamics #sorry everybody who follows more than one of these tags

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void-of-unparalled-chaos · 3 months

Text

Here's Where You'll Stay

"As John stared at the door preparing to get his face mauled, he couldn’t help but incredulously complain that this was not how he wanted his weekend to go. He had plans! He supposes that he would be willing to put them on hold for Phantom’s sake, but he wasn’t agreeable to the incoming face mauling. "

When Phantom comes down with Core Sickness it's up to John Constantine to save the ghost from fading.

This was originally based on a prompt from @nerdpoe but the story got so far from the original premise that I only ended up using dialogue. I put it under its own post instead of clogging up the notes for the prompt.

The title was taken from Today Has Been Okay by Sleeping at Last.

AO3 link

As John stared at the door preparing to get his face mauled, he couldn’t help but incredulously complain that this was not how he wanted his weekend to go. He had plans! Plans to hole himself up in the House of Mystery with a bottle of scotch as he wallows in misery but still, plans!

He supposes that he would be willing to put them on hold for Phantom’s sake, but he wasn’t agreeable to the incoming face mauling.

The little ghost had imprinted on them like a stray cat. He had just sorta… wandered (phased) in one day when the door (the wall) was open (he phased his head through the fucking wall!!!) and space is cold! No one was just going to kick him back out the door! They aren’t monsters! Next thing you know the cat is eating your food and hovering over you in the medbay and then suddenly the Justice League is having the collective realization that they may have unconsciously adopted a ghost kid.

They already had two aliens, an Amazon, a king, the fastest man alive, a Robin Hood wannabe, a traumatized furry, and an entire department dedicated to magic and the occult. What was a protection spirit added to the mix? Besides, they were already attached.

So the Justice League was understandably distressed when the kid suddenly collapsed, claws leaving long scratches in the floor as he yelped in pain. Phantom was transferred to one of his favored rooms with Martian Manhunter remaining to babysit the ghost. The other leaguers on-site wasted no time in calling a meeting.

If John had rushed a little faster to the Watchtower then that was between He, Him, and Himself.

Having sat silently through an hour of yapping, John was beginning to get frustrated. Figures that the idiots would call up the occult specialists and then not let the only two people who may have any idea as to what was going on get a word in edgewise. Usually, John preferred that they left him to his own devices, but if you were going to call up a consultant then you should probably fucking consult them! Regardless, he could say with a solid ninety-nine percent confidence he knew what was wrong with their resident spirit.

“It’s core sickness.”

“It’s what?”

“Core sickness. Do none of you listen?” he tried his best to blow his cigarette smoke directly into Superman’s face. Clark squinted at him, scrunching his nose in distaste.

Diana, ever the model of patience, merely waved the foul scent away. She folded her hands on the table, fingers interlocking. “I don’t believe I’ve heard the term.”

John leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the table with two thunks. He grunted around his cigarette, waving at Batman to explain while he took another inhale.

Batman quietly glared at John’s feet as if he could shove them off the table by willpower alone. When the bat remained silent, John gestured at him again in a wordless 'go ahead'.

"I am…" Batman gritted his teeth as if what he was about to say was physically painful, "unfamiliar with the term as well.

"Holy shit, did Spooky just admit to not knowing something? Am I dreaming? Quick, Barry, pinch me!" Hal yelped, rubbing his arm. Barry settled back into his chair so quickly it was as if he had never moved, the only evidence being the red mark on the Green Lantern's skin.

"Seriously bats? Isn't one of your boys undead? Shouldn't you know this?"

Batman's glare sharpened. "That's none of your concern."

"Wow. No wonder your revenant is so bloody pissed all the time. You can't even be bothered to learn about his medical needs. I wouldn't be holding out for Father of the Year if I were you."

"Now now, boys. You're both pretty." Zatanna clapped, breaking the practically solid tension in the room. John huffed and chewed the stub of paper in his mouth, leaving Zatanna to explain.

"All ghosts and most undead have a core. It's… hard to describe." Zatanna hummed, tapping her finger to her chin for a moment, "Imagine if you only had one organ. It functions as your brain your heart and your digestive system all in one, but it's also the essence of your very soul. Core sickness is when the core is injured and fails to build itself back up. Kind of like breaking your leg but instead of healing the break just continues to grind together. It might still be usable for a bit, but then the bone keeps grinding and the edges start to crumble. It just keeps getting worse and worse until eventually your whole leg is shattered."

There's a sharp inhale of breath as the league processes the information.

"So what happens once the bone shatters?" Arthur eventually asks.

"The core is exactly what it sounds like, it's the very core of a ghost. Ghosts are nearly indestructible, but their core..." Zatanna trails off.

"If the core shatters, so does the ghost." Batman nods, looking none too pleased.

"Well, we can't just let the kid shatter! How do we help set the break?"

Zatanna shrugs, "I'm not sure… Constantine?"

"Do I look like a ghost doctor?"

"You're the most knowledgeable among us on supernatural beings," Batman growled out. The usually stoic shadow almost seemed panicked, or at least as panicked as they had ever seen him.

John sighed and flicked ash from his fingers, "Pretty sure you gotta fix whatever shite caused the core sickness in the first place. Problem is we dunno what caused it."

"So why don't we ask? Surely Phantom would know the cause of such an extreme ailment." Arthur drummed his fingers nervously on the armrest of his chair.

Zatanna grimaced, “Ghosts can be…”

“Aggressive?" John interrupted, "Destructive? More likely to rip your sorry face off than give you answers?”

“I was going to say touchy.”

John snorted, “That’s certainly a word for it.”

Zatanna ignores him. "Whatever caused the core sickness is likely something personal. Asking certain questions of a ghost is considered taboo and often met with hostility."

"Casper just might flay you like a fish."

"So if we ask him we might get the snot beaten out of us, but if we don't Phantom dies? Or… dies again?"

"Fades." John nods to Hal.

“Constantine should ask.”

“I should what? ” John straightens in his chair, staring wide-eyed at Batman, “I know I was being a tosser earlier but I don’t think it constitutes murder. Are ya bloody mad?”

“Phantom likes you the most. He may be less inclined to fight you than a different leaguer, and in the event that it becomes a fight, you’re better equipped to handle it.”

And that’s how John Constantine ended up on the other side of the door from an ill ghost, cursing up a storm as he prepared himself to poke a bear with a stick. A sick bear, but a bear nonetheless. He has half a mind to portal straight out of the watch tower but much like the others, the kid has grown on him. Like a tumor. Or mold.

A hissed sound of pain is enough to push John into the room. He raps gently on the door as he opens it. The kid is curled in J’onn’s lap, tail phased halfway through the floor as he shakes. The Martian is humming something as he runs a hand through Phantom’s hair.

John comes to a crouch at Phantom’s side, nodding J’onn towards the door as he gently disentangles the ghost's hands from the Martian’s cape. A single hazy green eye opens to a thin slit.

“Hey, kid.”

Phantom makes a strangled, warbling chirp but allows himself to be transferred over to John as the Martian leaves the room. The ghost’s claws poke through his shirt to prickle his skin as he clutches onto the fabric.

“Not feeling too hot are ya, Casper?”

Another shiver runs through Phantom’s body.

“Listen, kid, I know you might not wanna talk about it, but it’s important. I need to know what brought this mess on.”

Phantom growled. John could feel the threatening scrape of fanged teeth against his hand. Sucking in a breath, John prepared himself for a nasty bite. Only it never came. He should probably just stop while he was ahead, but Constantine was never known to stop pushing.

“I know, kid, but we can’t fix this if we don’t know the cause. Gotta know what we need to fix before we can fix it, and none of us wanna see ya fade, yeah?”

Silence from the ghost, and then a nod.

John let out a sigh of relief, “Alright, Casper. You’ve walked in on me drunk off my arse with a belt around my head. I reckon we’re close enough that you can tell me your issues.”

Silence.

“How about this? I’ll start listing some ideas off and you tap my hand. One tap for yes, Two taps for no. Sound easier?”

One tap.

“Alright. Did your core sustain any direct physical damage?” With John’s luck he might as well assume the worst.

Two taps. Thank Christ.

“Did you lose your haunt?”

Two taps.

“Unable to fulfill your obsession?”

Two taps.

“Was your grave disrupted?”

Nothing. Phantom’s finger hesitated, hovering over John’s palm. It started to lower as if he were about to tap but retreated once more. Another shiver of pain wracked through the ghost.

John ran his fingers through Phantom’s hair like J’onn had been doing when he walked in.

“Am I close, Casper?”

One tap.

“Did you…” John hesitated. He didn’t want to say it. Didn’t even want to even think about it. Not with the implications that the idea held, especially not with a kid, “Do you have a grave?”

Two taps.

Constantine makes a strangled sound. Bollocks. Fucking hell. Is Phantom a murder victim? He’s just going to compartmentalize that for now. He’ll drink about it later. For now, he’s got a kid to help. A potentially murdered kid, Christ…

“Is that what’s causing the core sickness?” Compartmentalise it, you plonker.

One tap.

Great. So now John has to track down a murdered kid’s body and make him a grave. Wonderful.

“Alright, kid. Here’s what's gonna happen. I’m going to make you the best damn grave you’ve ever seen. I’ll put it wherever ya want. ”

Phantom’s eye opens again in interest, “Wherever?”

“Wherever. Hell, I’ll put it on the bloody moon if that’s where ya want it!”

“It doesn’t have to be on the moon but… I’d like to see the stars?”

“I’ll make sure you can see the stars all the damn time, but first we gotta do the hard part. You know where your body is, kid?”

Phantom gives a weak chuckle and mutters something into John’s shirt

“Gonna have to speak up a bit, Casper.”

When Phantom turns to look at John once more the haze is gone, but so is that tiny glimmer of hope and enthusiasm. The eyes that meet John’s own are dead. They look clouded over and sunken, empty of that natural ectoplasmic glow. They look like the eyes of a carcass. The fanged grin that stretches across his face is stiff and just as dead as his eyes.

“I said if you want to find my body, you’re going to have to redefine your definition of a corpse.”

Ah. Alright. What the fuck is that supposed to mean.

Phantom drops his grin, eyes closing as he hisses in pain again. “You don’t need to worry about that part. An empty grave is better than none.”

No, actually, John feels like he does need to worry about that. He’s not entirely sure that he has a choice in the matter after that horrifying statement. He’ll compartmentalize it and get drunk about that later too. Right now he’s got a grave to make and a ghost to save.

____🥀____

To be fair, John’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. All he knows is that he has to make a damn good grave for a damn good kid if he doesn’t want said kid to painfully fade from existence. He doesn’t know the first thing about headstones but he will bloody learn and pick the best- Granite? Marble? Whatever.- there is!

He already has a spot picked out, he just needs to get a headstone. But for some reason, this feels way more stressful than it needs to be! He’s tempted to ignore the no smoking sign, fingers fidgeting with the cigarette box in his pocket. This is the fourth place he’s looked, and it’s hard to find anyone willing to make a headstone on such short notice. The backlog of orders has been surprisingly long.

John doesn’t have the time to wait. Phantom doesn’t have the time.

So far it's all been the same boring, drab, grey rock with intermittent white marble. None of it is good enough. None of it fits the kid. It has to be perfect. He’s about to move on to the next place when- oh. Oh, that will do nicely!

____🥀____

Constantine swings open the door without warning. Oliver startles out of his story with a yelp. Phantom giggles, fangs flashing. He covers his mouth with a hand and feigns innocence when Oliver glares at him good-naturedly. Oliver, a dad himself, is no match for the sick-child-murder victim-ghost energy the kid is wielding. His glare quickly crumbles, replaced with a fond expression and gentle hair ruffle.

Even with weakness weighing his limbs down, Phantom still tries to bat the hand away with a playful growl. He seemed a tad more lively than when John had last seen him. The updates he had been receiving from the league were mainly neutral. The League, or the Rotating Cycle of Babysitters as John liked to call them, had not noticed any further deterioration but had yet to report any improvement either. It was a pleasant surprise to see the ghost this active.

John allowed his mouth to tick up just a smidge, “Ready to go, kid?”

“Already?” Phantom attention shifted to John, “It hasn’t been that long… has it?”

“Nah. Only ‘bout two days or so.”

“That was fast.” Phantom grunted as Oliver picked him up. Oliver whispered a quiet sorry to him as he carried Phantom to pass over to John.

“I’ve been running myself ragged to get it all set up. Haven’t had a drink in hours.”

It really shouldn’t surprise John how light the kid was. He’d bet the ghost wouldn’t even weigh ten pounds soaking wet. Before the ghost could protest, he was slipping a blindfold over his eyes.

“I may have done some bribery here and there to move things along.”

“Constantine, you didn’t…” Oliver sounded disappointed but not surprised.

John didn’t deign him with a response, instead shifting to hold Phantom with one arm and open a portal with the other. Stepping through to the surprisingly large backyard of the House of Mystery, he quickly closed it behind them before off-brand Robin Hood got any ideas and began the short trek to the gravesite.

"Can I take this off now?" His hand raised shakily without waiting for an answer.

John gently slapped his wrist back down, "Quit messing with the blindfold. I just put the damn thing on!"

Phantom groaned, his head dramatically falling back over John's arm, "Oh come on! What's a dying ghost gotta do around here to get his last wish fulfilled?"

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're already dead. And 'sides, I'm not letting you fade after all those goddamn hours I've put into teaching you portals. You're going to be haunting the Justice League for a while yet." If John held him a little tighter no one needed to know.

"Whoever said that you could rest when you're dead lied ."

"You've been a right thorn in my side between stealing my booze and hiding my cigs. I figure it's about time that I make myself your problem. It's called karma, Casper."

Phantom snorted, leaning his head to rest against John's shoulder. The rest of the walk continued in silence aside from the occasional whimper of pain from Phantom and John's attempts at comforting platitudes.

It wasn't long before John finally made it up the small hill, grinning as he approached the grave marker. The stone slab sat on the highest point of his lot, as close to the stars as possible. He had been so meticulous about its placement that he was almost certain he had every inch of the garden memorized until his eyesight blurred, surprisingly without the aid of alcohol.

"Alright, Phantom. Remember to take it easy," John lifted the blindfold.

Phantom's chest hitched in the mimicry of a gasp, stilling in the older's hold.

The headstone was made of black granite with golden flecks. The man at the shop had called it Galaxy Granite. It was a rather fitting name. The headstone looked like it had been cut from the night sky itself, the stars sparkling even under sunlight. An etching of Ursa Minor sat above the inscription, Polaris bigger than the rest of the constellation. Dainty white letters ran across the stone. Phantom floated over as if in a trance to run his fingers over it.

In Loving Memory Of

Danny Fenton

12 February 1989

12 February 2003

Beloved Son, Brother, Hero

Phantom leaned his head against the stone. John left him to have his moment, retreating into the House of Mystery to grab the final touch. The bouquet was sort of garish. The colors of the forget-me-nots, beardtongue, zinnias, star grass, poppies, and lewisias clashed together, but the aesthetic appeal wasn’t why he had chosen these particular flowers. He remerged with purpose, gently carrying the bouquet to ensure the flowers remained intact. Phantom hadn’t moved.

John crouched next to the kid, gently laying the flowers down against the headstone, “You oka-”

John made a noise of surprise as he was tugged forward. The momentum caused him to collapse from his heels onto his knees. The ghost burrowed underneath his chin, keeping him from falling forward anymore. Phantom’s arms tightened around him.

“Thank you.” His voice already sounded stronger than it had the day before.

“Yeah,” John snaked an arm around the ghost’s shoulders, holding him close even as his shirt dampened, “Don’t mention it, kid.”

#dpxdc #Here's Where You'll Stay #my writing #dpxdc fanfic

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pinknightsinmymind · 1 year

Text

【 hell week - abby anderson 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

based off request prompt: What do you think about them being in college and braving through finals together? Like, they've been working for hours and they collectively decide to encourage each other through it?

content: modern!au, college!au, established relationship, helping each other manage stress through finals, you and abby being caring gf's, LOTS of affection between you two, one sexual joke, abby being happy and sharing her sense of humor, lots and lots and lots of fluff, cuddling, use of pet names (babe, baby, love, etc.)

a/n: wowowow this was so cute to write ik its a little past finals week as the next semester has either begun or will be starting soon for ppl, but i hope reading about going through finals week and being domestic with abby is still heartwarming. i hope it can also be a comfort to be read again at a later time when its finals week again and you're stressed and need a moment to relax :) more than anything taking care of yourself during finals is the most important which is something i've barely learned and figured out how to do. anyways, now that i'm done lecturing, pls enjoy!!!!

“I think I’m going to drop out,” Abby announced. You snorted.

“Like hell you’d drop out,” you said back to her. You knew Abby was just being dramatic and complaining. Despite how draining the work was, you knew she loved her major and being in pre-med.

“No, I think I’m actually gonna do it this time. I’ll just scam people online for money. This medical shit just isn’t it. In fact, I think I’m gonna become the country’s most wanted con-woman.”

“What you need is a break from studying, not to drop out,” you advised. You leaned forward from across the table and closed Abby’s textbook and notes. She sighed and rubbed her temples. “You’ve been studying hard enough. Don’t push yourself.”

“You’re right.” She shuffled some of her note cards in her hands absentmindedly. “Neither of us have taken a break in a while. My brain hurts.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled. “Wanna get something to eat?”

“You read my mind. I think the walk would be good for me.”

“Plus, we’ve done enough studying for a while. We can study more later tonight.”

“You’re a genius, [Y/N],” she grinned. “That’s why I keep you around.” You rolled your eyes as you gathered your things together and shoved them in your backpack. Abby followed suit as the two of you prepared to leave the library. You checked your phone and saw it was around three o’clock, and you had both been there since before noon. Yeah, you both definitely needed the break.

“Tonight,” you started as you walked by Abby’s side, “we’ll study some more. I say we take a few hours to ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked flirtily. You hit her arm.

“Not like that! I meant we should decompress for a while. Eat, watch some TV, that kind of thing.”

“Physical activities are good for decompressing,” she countered.

“Oh, I’m sure they are to you. Look at you. You go to the gym, like, six times a week,” you joked.

“Five,” she corrected.

“See!” you exclaimed. The two of you finally exited the library, the sun’s warmth and beams hitting you. The warmth was delicious, and much better than the freezing Arctic inside the library.

“I thought you liked my physique. Some say it’s Grecian.”

The laugh spilled from your lips before you could even stop yourself. “Oh, my God. You did not just say that.”

“I think I’d be a Spartan,” she mused.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m one hundred percent serious. Sparta’s no joking matter.”

“You are so—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Charming? Hilarious? I’ve heard it all before,” she said cockily. Before you could even respond you felt her hand slither close to yours and lace your fingers together. “What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. What’s closest?”

“That sandwich place you like is nearby. We just gotta walk past the art building and it’s right there.”

“Deal!” you agreed. Walking through campus was always enjoyable with Abby by your side. She made the weather less dull, the day less mundane. It was these little moments with her that you enjoyed the most. Sure, it’s boring everyday life, but she made it special. Abby swung your interlocked hands through the air as she matched your stride. Yes, you may have been in the middle of exams, but at least you had Abby by your side while you endured it. You enjoyed the small journey together, taking the time to admire the beautiful landscapes before you. The university had many trees planted around campus whose lush, green branches provided bountiful amounts of shade. There were squirrels roaming around searching for food, while only a few other students wandered around. For some finals week had barely begun, while others were going through the dregs of it.

Nearly everyone had coffee in their hands while they were dressed lazily—and none of them you could blame. Finals week tired you out beyond compare, and you still had a paper to complete tonight. Abby had two more exams to prepare for, while you only had one more in a few days. You were both just trying your best to make it through the week, both vowing to help each other whenever necessary. That included monitoring each other’s sleeping schedules, making sure you both stayed on task, and making sure above all you were both taking care of your health. That was the most important one seeing as the two of you had a streak for getting so involved in your studies you often neglected your well-being. It was a slippery slope, but when you had each other to look after one another, it made things somewhat easier.

“Hey,” you said to Abby suddenly. She glanced at you, waiting for you to finish speaking. “I’ll pay for lunch today.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah. My treat.” You squeezed her hand in yours, watching as a smile spread across Abby’s face. She looked radiant whenever she smiled.

“Trying to wine and dine me?” she teased.

“You know it.”

Lunch with Abby was just as calming and therapeutic as you thought it would be. Not only did it calm your nerves, but it gave both of your brains just the break they needed. You both took your time to eat, looking to enjoy each others’ presence and the food instead of rushing. After eating, the two of you decided to head back to your shared apartment rather than go to the library again.

“Do we have to start studying right away now that we’re home?” you asked her. Abby glanced at her watch. It was barely five, but she didn’t want you to stress yourself out more. In fact, she felt you deserved to rest more, instead.

“’Course not, babe,” she answered. “You’ve already been working hard enough. Let’s just watch something together.” Abby pulled together some blankets and set up her laptop for the two of you on your bed. Settling herself against the headboard with the blanket wrapped around her, she opened up her arms for you to join her. You quickly joined her, Abby wrapping the blanket around you as well. She pulled you close to her body, arms around you tightly, as you began to watch the show you binge watched together. Abby placed quick kisses against your cheek and forehead here and there, but still made sure to concentrate on the show before her. Despite this, you still managed to distract her and pull her into more heated kisses every now and then.

After a few episodes you asked Abby if she was ready to finish studying, and when she said yes the marathon ended. You sat at the small dinner table together, Abby turning through the pages of her textbook and making countless flashcards. You, however, pulled out your laptop and began working on your paper. It was due tomorrow at noon, so you wanted to be sure you got it done by tonight, even if it meant staying up extra late. You’d make that sacrifice if you had to. You wrote page after page, inserting your quotes, making arguments, for what felt like forever. However, you were still nowhere close to done. It was already past 10 P.M., and you had at least three to four pages left to do. After about twenty more minutes, Abby wrapped up her studying and announced she would take a shower.

“I’ll be back, love,” she said, giving you a small kiss before heading to the bathroom. You sighed as you heard the water start running. You knew it was going to be a while before you finished, but you’d have to bear it for the time being. You worked in a frenzy as the pressure of your final grade hung over your head. You just wanted to finish this assignment so the semester could finally be over. Abby finally returned from her shower after some time, rubbing the strands of her hair in her towel to dry it off.

“How’s the paper coming?” she asked. You shook your head.

“It’s coming,” you groaned.

“It’s getting pretty late. Are you almost done?”

“Hardly,” you answered. Abby came up behind you and began massaging your shoulders. It helped to calm you somewhat, her hands managing to rub the spots that ached the most.

“Want me to stay up with you?” she asked softly.

“I’d like that,” you said. Abby finished massaging your shoulders and pulled out the seat next to you.

“I’ll stay here the whole time with you, baby, but let’s make a deal.”

“What is it?” you asked. You looked away from your screen and into your girlfriend’s eyes as she spoke.

“Before I tell you, what time is this paper due?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” you answered.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll let you write a little bit more, but after midnight you’re gonna take a shower and go to sleep.”

“But I need to finish this,” you argued.

“Yeah, but you can’t tire yourself out, babe. You’re not pulling an all-nighter on my watch. We’ll wake up early together tomorrow and you can finish it, okay? So just do what you can tonight.”

“Fine,” you grumbled.

“So, how much you got left?” she asked.

“About two to three pages,” you answered.

“I think you should write until you only have one page left. How does that sound?”

“Doable,” you responded. You turned back to your laptop and continued where you left off. Abby leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder as you wrote. Usually you didn’t like having people watch you write, but with Abby it was different. You adored her and cherished her company. While she leaned on you, one of her hands rubbed circles onto your back absentmindedly.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking you to finish your paper in the morning,” she spoke up suddenly. “I just don’t want you to burn yourself out or stay up too late. I know how we both get when it’s finals, so I just don’t want either of us to make the same mistakes again, you know?”

“It’s okay, Abs. I don’t mind,” you reassured her. “To be honest, I kind of like it. It makes me feel cared for.”

“You’re very cared for,” she said, pecking your cheek. Finally, after about twenty more minutes of writing, you finally reached a stoppining point that wouldn’t be too hard to continue the following morning.

“Done!” you exclaimed. Abby smiled at you and shut your laptop for you.

“Good. Now do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“You better not fall asleep,” you warned. You pecked her lips as you rose from the table to go take your shower. The warm water was calming as it soothed your joints and cleansed your body. Once you finished your shower and nightly routine, you found Abby waiting in bed for you. She had the blanket covering her legs as she read one of her books quietly. You crawled into bed carefully beside her and curled up into her side.

“Ready for bed?” Abby asked. She closed her book and placed it on her nightstand.

“Yeah,” you answered. Without another word Abby turned her lamp off and pulled you into her.

“Good night,” she whispered into your neck.

“Good night,” you said back to her. It wasn’t long before the two of you dozed off.

+ + +

“Hey,” she whispered. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” You groaned as you wiped your eyes and they adjusted to the bright lights. She must have had the kitchen lights on and the blinds open like always since she was the morning person in the relationship. You could smell fresh coffee and feel Abby’s arms around your body. Her hand stroked your cheek as she whispered to you softly. “Come on. I’ve got your morning coffee ready. Just how you like.”

“For real?” you asked. Abby laughed at your response.

“Yes, now go wash up.” You groggily dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom to wash up, the cold water you splashed on your face waking you up. After you finished brushing your teeth, you wandered to the kitchen where Abby sat at the table waiting for you.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Barely nine, so you have plenty of time to finish up your paper and edit,” she said. You came towards her and sat in her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck. Abby’s hands immediately found refuge around your waist as she rubbed them against the small of your back.

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” you muttered into her shoulder.

“Well, thank you,” she said in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna finish my work,” you announced. You rose from Abby’s lap as she reluctantly pulled her hands away from your body. You pulled out your chair and grabbed the coffee mug Abby left out for you. It was exactly how you liked it, just as she said. After working for nearly an hour, you finally finished your paper and began editing it. That took close to another hour, and by then you were able to turn it in confidently. You let out a sigh of relief as you glanced at Abby beside you.

“All done?” she asked.

“All done,” you said happily. Abby leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Happy to hear it. Wanna cuddle the rest of the day? I say we rest today since we have a couple more days till our next exams.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you answered.

#tlou #tlou2 #tlou x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x reader #tlou abby #abby anderson

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stevesbestgirl · 9 months

Text

Grumpy - Part 1/2

Joel Miller x Reader

2514 words

Warnings: Jackson era!Joel, mutual pining, infected attack (reader gets scraped up but mostly unharmed), gun use, implied character (animal) death (spoiler alert, its me), vague references to reader’s past trauma, alcohol consumption

A/N: I’ve just really wanted to try writing my hand at writing Joel. I want to do another part eventually, but I’m trying to stop hoarding things because they aren’t finished, so please be patient ❤

"Would you leave that thing alone?" Joel gave a long suffering sigh as you knelt and held out a friendly hand to the grizzled-looking tabby cat.

"He's not a thing." You shot Joel a glare in return before returning your attention to the skittish feline sniffing your fingers. It had taken months of leaving food and wearing gloves to get this close without a scratch, but now the cat shoved its weight against your hand, the deep rumble of purring starting up like an old engine. "No one else minds when I stop. It's just for a minute."

"One more minute we don't need to be outside." He was such a stubborn bastard.

With another withering look at Joel, you stopped scratching and dug in your bag for the food you'd brought, setting it out and giving him a quick head pat as you stood, "Sorry sweet boy, I have to go. Take care of yourself, okay?"

The walk back to town was quiet until you felt like you had to defend yourself, "I just like knowing he has something to eat."

"Other animals could smell what you're bringing him-"

"Would you stop it?" It was more of a plea than anything. "I-" You swallowed the surprising lump in your throat; it was harder to talk about these things with Joel. "I know it's silly, when everyone has lost so much, but I miss my cat. And everyone deserves to have someone look after them."

Joel surprised you with a dry chuckle, making your heart flip, "Some of us are more the looking after type, darlin'."

You lowered your gaze to your feet in the snow, pretending to focus on your footing instead of answering. You knew that. That was why Joel always got you flustered. Hell, it felt like half the town must have figured out how you felt about him based on how often you tripped over your words after getting caught stealing glances.

The rest of the walk back was spent in silence, as it often was with Joel. He left you at your door next to his own after asking if you'd be working the bar later that night. You were, and you promised to see him later before you disappeared inside.

***

Shifts at the bar tended to pass quickly- a hell of a lot faster than patrol anyway. There was always work to be done around the settlement during the day, but unless you were on guard duty, most nights were spent at the Clay Pit drinking the homebrew Tommy and the other guys were so proud of. You'd still kill for a wine cooler, but it was better not to think about it too much.

By the time you realized Joel hadn't come in, it was almost ten. Tommy had come in an hour or so ago. You knew Joel would be annoyed if he knew you were worrying about him- he always raised a fuss if you tried to look after him. But still, you hoped he was okay.

It was half past eleven when Joel finally climbed onto his usual stool and tipped his chin in a greeting. You couldn't help the smile that brightened your expression when you saw him. His mouth turned up at the corner in what you always assumed was Joel’s version of a polite smile.

You set his drink in front of him, "Late night?"

He grunted something that might have been a halfhearted laugh, "Game night with Ellie."

"Boggle again?" Ellie loved to brag about beating Joel.

"Nah, I'm teaching her poker."

"Got tired of losing, huh?"

"If I had it wouldn't matter. She's already shaping up to be a mean card player."

You smiled again, "She's a smart girl."

"That she is."

You bustled off to bus tables, leaving Joel to nurse his drink. You'd heard people- other women who thought he was handsome mostly, complain about how short Joel seemed, but you never minded. You weren't much for small talk either, although you were happier than Joel to oblige when someone wanted to chat.

You did always wonder what he was thinking. It was no surprise Ellie could read his stony expressions, since she knew him better than anyone, except maybe Tommy. But to you, Joel was like a brick wall.

You had thought he’d been flirting with you once- one of the bar patrons had stood up unexpectedly as you were walking by and you’d nearly gone down on your ass, if not for Joel’s palm on the small of your back. It was the soft grumble of, “Careful darlin’, fall in my lap and I might not let you go,” only loud enough for you to hear, that had your breath catching and a tidal wave of flustered apologies tumbling from your mouth.

But as quickly as it happened, it was over. When you’d offered to make dinner for him and Ellie as thanks- the closest you’d come to asking him out on a real date- he’d waved it away. And you’d decided then that trying to decipher Joel’s feelings for you would only end up leaving you disappointed. You wanted to think he was interested and you would likely find any evidence you could to support it. But more likely than anything, the man just wanted some peace with his kid.

Deciding that Joel deserved his peace was one thing, but getting your silly crush to go away, that was another. And it seemed like as time went on, you were assigned more and more patrols with Joel until you were going out together at least once a week. But Joel hadn’t complained again about stopping to visit your feline friend.

“Why do you call him that?” Joel’s voice surprised you; usually he leaned broodily against a tree, silent while you visited.

You looked over your shoulder at Joel, the cat still brushing against your shins, “Sweet boy?” Joel nodded, his gaze still on the trees, ever diligent in keeping watch. “Because he is.”

That pulled a dry chuckle from him, the sound startling the cat, “Didn’t you damn-near need stitches the first time you got near him?”

“He was scared,” you defended. “But now that he knows I’m safe, he’s a total love bug.” You shot him a teasing smile, “Kind of like you with Ellie.” You knew no one at the compound would believe it if you told them, but Joel’s cheeks seemed to darken, even beneath the several days-old scruff on his cheeks.

You didn’t call attention to it, digging in your bag for the food you’d brought. Once he was happily eating, you gave him a pat and said your goodbyes, prompting Joel to speak again as you started the rest of the walk home, his voice low, “You don’t wanna give him a real name, do you?”

You thought about lying; it was even harder to be vulnerable when Joel was asking for it- it threw you off guard. “Not particularly. Makes it harder if something does happen to him.”

“Why don’t you bring him in if you worry so much?”

You didn’t bother to suppress a soft sigh, you’d gone in circles about it, “I don’t know how he would do. If he would stay. How he would be around so many people. I don’t want him to be unhappy.”

Joel let it be after that, waiting silently each time you stopped after that. Until the day you stopped and made the chirping sound like usual and your friend didn’t come trotting out from the trees. Heart stuttering, you rolled your tongue again, a bit louder, but there was no sign of him.

"Sweet boy?" You stepped a bit deeper into the woods and clicked your tongue again, waiting. Your heart was beating in your ears, breath getting stuck in your throat.

You were waiting for a comment from Joel- an "I told you so," or an empty reassurance, but neither came.

You tried to call out again, but your voice broke. You squeezed your eyes shut to stifle the tears trying to well up.

"Darlin'-" You heard the scuff of a boot on dirt and then, "Shit- move!"

Even with your eyes closed, the shadow was still discernible; you stumbled out of the way just in time for a snarl and a swipe at your coat sleeve. There was a sharp bang, then two more in quick succession. You were mid-kick, ready to fight a follow up attack that never came; the zombie crumpled to the ground as you fell backwards, your palms scraping the dirt.

After a beat of silence, you whispered, "Fuck." Then tears spilled over into your cheeks as you stared numbly at the corpse on the ground.

Then Joel was grabbing your arms, his face blocking your view, "Are you alright?" The way he said it made you think it wasn't the first time he'd asked.

"I'm fine." After a beat of deciding whether to accept that, Joel hauled you up by the forearms. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand, mindful of the scrapes on your palms; you needed to pull yourself together until you were home. Until Joel wasn't around to see you cry.

But Joel refused to leave you at your door like usual, "Lemme help you get cleaned up."

You didn't have it in you to argue. So you ended up sitting on the closed toilet lid while Joel knelt in front of you, your first aid kit open on the counter. You didn't flinch when he disinfected the scrapes, drawing a raised eyebrow, but no questions.

Once you were bandaged up, he rumbled low, brown eyes boring into yours, "You sure you're alright?" He was still holding your wrist.

You nodded numbly, "Just shaken up." You broke eye contact, "'M sorry."

He tapped his thumb on your chin, urging you to look at him, "What're you sorry for?"

"You were right. I shouldn't have stopped. I probably got him killed. Almost got myself killed, if not for you." Saying it aloud made the tears spring back up.

"None of that was your fault." The way Joel's expression softened would have melted your heart on a normal day. Today it made you feel like an idiot.

"Thanks. But I think I need to be alone for a little bit."

If you didn't know better, you'd think you caught him by surprise. But he recovered quickly, his thumb brushing over your wrist as he stood. You followed him to the door, “Thanks for the help, Joel.”

He nodded, but he hesitated for a moment before he left, his fingers wrapped around the open door. He glanced at you again and practically grunted, “You’re welcome.” Then he stepped through the door and hastened off the patio. You had been kind of rude; you couldn’t blame him for being annoyed. You closed the door quickly; you would feel guilty for your rudeness later, but you needed to be sad in peace.

“Surprised you’re working tonight,” Tommy commented when he came into the bar at half past nine.

You glanced at him in the middle of bussing the bar, “Better than sitting home. Joel told you?”

“Had me out practically ‘til dark looking for that cat.” He gave a chuckle to show he held no real contempt for his brother, but your throat felt a bit tight.

Finally you mustered, “That was nice of you both. I wouldn’t have expected you to find anything, but I appreciate it.”

Tommy glanced down at the bar, clearing his throat, “We, uh, actually did find something.” Somehow your heart sank even lower. “No body, but there was some fur- a few different colors not far from where that infected was.”

You nodded, struggling to stay dry-eyed, “Thanks for telling me.” You tipped your chin at the room, “I should do a round.”

Tommy nodded and freed you to check on the other patrons; you made sure to keep yourself busy until you locked the door behind you. You’d been dreading the end of your shift.

Even though it was the same as always, your empty house seemed to magnify the loss inside you. If you said it out loud, it would sound so silly to be so upset over a cat- one that wasn’t even really your pet. But it really felt like the nail in the coffin of loss; your parents, your boyfriend, your sister. You’d bourne it all without a fuss. Survival had taken priority. But Jackson had made you soft- made you feel safe. Now this one little thing without even a proper name felt like the straw to break the camel’s back.

You took your blanket out to the swing on your front porch- Joel had helped you fix it- and wrapped yourself up. You huddled up to block your cheeks against the chilly air, but it was worth it for the view of the stars. The chilly night air in your lungs and the bright sparkle of the sky with tonight’s clear sky helped to clear your head.

“What are you doing out here so late?” Joel’s voice broke you from your stupor. You must have visibly jumped because he quickly added, his voice a bit softer, “Sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to spook ya.” He walked halfway up your front sidewalk and paused.

“That’s okay, I should probably go inside anyway.”

You didn’t make any move to get up and Joel came closer, leaning against the rail post, “You’ll get sick sittin’ out here dressed like that.”

“The cold doesn’t actually make you sick, you know.” You surprised both of you by sounding more like your normal self.

“You sound like Ellie.”

“Like I said before, she’s a smart girl.”

That pulled a curl from the corner of his mouth that looked suspiciously like a smile in the dim light. He wasn’t going to let you joke your way out of the conversation though. “You alright? Actually?”

You nodded, “I’m okay. Just needed some air.” There was a pause, then you added, “I appreciate that you went out to look for him. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m still hopin’ he’ll turn up.”

You glanced away, “It’s okay. Tommy told me about what you found.”

“That jackass. I asked him to wait until I was sure.”

“I’m sure enough,” you said. “It’s too dangerous to be out there looking for him.” You offered a sad smile, “You don’t have to take care of me because you feel bad. I’m alright.”

Giving a sardonic chuckle, Joel raised an eyebrow, “I don’t look after anyone because I feel bad for them.”

“And yet, you’re here, making sure I go inside and get warm before you go home.”

He shook his head, “And you’re still here, probably freezing.” He tromped up onto the porch and offered you a hand up. You reluctantly accepted and let him steer you to the front door. He tugged the blanket up more tightly around your shoulders, “Get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded, “Good night, Joel.”

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #joel x reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst

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thenightfolknetwork · 16 days

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Hello, I seem to have found myself with an issue at work. My wife’s a demon. Literally. Her family hails from a realm of chaos but we met when she moved here for work. I talk about her fairly often so I had assumed all my coworkers were aware of her genus.

However, on Friday a couple of colleagues I don’t know so well pulled me aside to “discuss how I speak about my wife”. Apparently when I’ve been referring to my wife a demon they had been assuming I’m nothing more than a wife-hating misogynist. I unfortunately understand where they’re coming from; a lot of men my age do to speak poorly of their wives, but I adore mine! She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and when I call her a demon I say it with nothing but complete respect for her genus and her culture.

When they confronted me I panicked. All I could do was mutter some vague promise about doing better, then I scrambled to my car before they could say another word.

Since then I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened. Do people think I’ve been complaining about my wife for the last 20 years and have always been afraid to speak up? Or worse, do some of my acquaintances even support with that kind of behaviour?

In addition, should I speak to my colleagues about their assumptions about my wife’s genus? I’m rather uncomfortable that they heard “demon” and assumed I meant it both metaphorically and in a derogative manner. They’re generally nice people who were trying to call out what they perceived to be poor behaviour on my part. I don’t want to put them off intervening in future, but that doesn’t change their mistake now. I just don’t know what to do.

[Inspired by this post https://www.tumblr.com/acecorvid/744120113970790400]

Oh dear, reader. It sounds like you and your colleagues have got yourselves into a bit of an unnecessary muddle here. Fortunately, it's nothing a little clear communication can't help.

First of all, I absolutely agree that there is something problematic in their quickness to hear negativity and criticism in terminology relating to infernal species.

Based on the way you've spoken about your relationship here, it seems unlikely that you've been using this language while also speaking about your wife in a derogatory, dismissive way.

By failing to see these context clues and simply assuming you couldn't possibly be talking about an actual demon, your colleagues have shown their own sapio-centric bias.

At the same time, though, it's a good sign that they're willing to speak up against casual misogyny – even if their enthusiasm is, in this particular case, misplaced. You can use this good intention as a way to navigate the conversation itself.

Instead of telling them all the ways they're wrong, start off by acknowledging their efforts to push back against the patriarchy. Use this as a way to segue into the actual issue, letting them know that their willingness to speak up to you makes you feel able to correct their own misapprehension.

You don't need to belabour the point. However, I do think it's worth explicitly noting that it was a particularly unfortunate mistake to make, given how it feeds into sapio-centric culture in general and anti-infernal prejudice specifically.

Of course, this doesn't address your concerns about how you've been perceived by your friends and coworkers prior to this incident. Unfortunately, there's nothing to be done about people's past misapprehensions. At the same time, I wonder how realistic your concerns are.

You've known some of these people for 20 years. You speak about your wife often, and are supportive and enthusiastic about her culture. Presumably at some point you've mentioned engaging with her cultural practices, celebrating certain holidays and rituals, visiting family on other planes, and so on.

If anyone who's known you as long as all that still hasn't picked up on this, that's really on them.

As for worrying that you may have acquaintances who think you agree with their misogynistic views, the answer there is simple: do your actions otherwise indicate that you might be a person who would support such ideas?

If someone says or does something misogynistic in your presence, do you have the integrity to speak up about it? Are you involved in supporting equality and diversity in your workplace? Are you someone your friends and acquaintances could come to for support in the face of discrimination?

Most importantly, as the example with your colleagues demonstrates, are you a person who can hear criticism and make an effort to unlearn your own prejudices and preconceptions?

If you can answer yes to those questions, you have nothing to fear. You are already doing what you can do push back against structures of inequality and prejudice, and are in little danger of being mistaken for a bigot. And if not, you have some next steps to take on that journey.

[Clickable link to the original post]

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

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rath00ker · 6 months

Text

Does this twst character smoke or not

(Including everyone but event Characters and RSA characters)

NRC Staff

Crowley: No. He just doesn’t seem to be the type

Trein: He probably doesn’t. Like if he did it was in his 20s and he stopped once his daughters complained about the smell

Crewel: He’s literally based off Cruella de Vil of course he does. But he probably has one of those long cigarette things and makes his own cigarettes.

Vargas: Imma say no, but he definitely drinks. He do be at bars after school hours

Sam: Probably not. I mean he likely sells them but he just doesn’t seem like the type.

Heartslabyul

Riddle: No. His mother is a doctor he’s never once picked up a lighter.

Trey: Also no but he does not care. His parents probably smoked but they did it outside

Cater: He tried vapes but didn’t like them. Still has one but doesn’t really use it

Deuce: When he was younger yes, now that he’s trying to be an honor student no.

Ace: A social smoker. If it’s being passed around he’ll take it but he never smokes on his own time

Savannaclaw

Leona: No. He just doesn’t like the smell

Ruggie: Probably used to sneak his grandma’s cigarette when she wasn’t looking and now just does it whenever he can get his hands on one which isn’t often

Jack: No.

Octavinelle

Azul: No. I’ve seen fanart of him smoking and like I get it he has a whole mafia aesthetic going on but I feel like if he ever tried he’d cough his lungs out

Jade: Also no, he tried didn’t care for it

Floyd: I’ve also seen a lot of fanart of him smoking but I actually think he fucking hates the smell of cigarette smoke

Scarabia

Kalim: No. never in his life. Dad probably smokes but he does not

Jamil: His breakfast is a single cup of coffee and a cigarette at 3 in the morning

Pomefiore

Vil: No, he cares way to much about his teeth and gums to smoke

Rook: He’s French. Probably sneaks one in the woods or smt

Epel: Imma say no. If he did it was only to piss off Vil

Ignihyde

Idia: This can go two ways. One he just doesn’t or two he does and he has the crispiest most burnt blueberry vape known to man

Ortho: Literally a robot

Diasomna

Malleus: No, also I see a lot of people saying he wouldn’t even know about cigarettes but like? He’s a fae that’s been alive for 100 smt years he’s heard of cigarettes before he just doesn’t smoke

Lilia: He’s a war veteran with three children. He smokes.

Silver: He’s asleep half of the time so no

Sebek: Will literally scream if he sees you smoking

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campgender · 9 months

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Hi, my friend has a chronic illness that flares up sometimes and we've been wanting to hang out but it has gotten cancelled a couple times lately bc of her not feeling well enough on the day. I want to ask her how she feels cuz I care abt her a lot and want an update but 1, I don't want her to feel pressured or like I'm asking just to ask can we hang out now, and not bc I care abt how she's feeling (does that make sense? I may be overthinking this) and 2, I genuinely wanna know how she's doing but idk what to say if she responds with her not being better, sometimes u don't feel better and that's ok but I always want to offer comfort somehow or just convey my friendship? but I feel the same everytime and don't want to sound repetitive ?

Any thoughts?

this is really kind of you & it means so much to me that you want to support your friend & are putting so much thought into it! my response is inherently based in my own experience to an extent & everybody’s different, but a lot if not all of this is stuff i’ve heard regularly from other chronically ill people. of course, don’t say anything you don’t mean – if some of this isn’t the case for you, just adapt accordingly :)

i understand worrying about being repetitive but i think that’s totally okay to do! for one thing, it can be difficult to remember things period when you’re ill, especially during a flare, & for another, internalized + societal ableism is a hell of a force. it never hurts to have a reminder that not everyone is trying to force ableist expectations onto you + your friendship & that someone cares about you!

i think you can definitely tell your friend pretty much what you told me! like, “hey, it’s okay if you aren’t feeling up for responding but i just wanted to check on you! not trying to pressure you to hang out or anything, i just care about you & how you’re doing”

honestly the most important + supportive thing people have ever told me is that it’s okay if the answer is “bad.” i’m literally like surprised pikachu meme every time somebody offers to let me vent about having a rough time & then it helps me just to talk about it. it’s really socially unacceptable to talk about chronic pain & a lot of people get frustrated when you’re complaining about the same thing & there’s not really anything they can do, so just the opportunity to be like “yeah shit fucking sucks right now” means a lot.

obv the appropriateness of this depends on the person & their relationship to disability but most of the time i’m very like, radical acceptance / embracing / etc about the fact that i’m probably just gonna get sicker, so sometimes when i’m having a rough time emotionally & am like “what if i’m this bad for the rest of my life” my gf (who doesn’t have chronic pain / chronic illness) will say something like “then i can’t wait to be there with you ❤️” & it’s more meaningful to me than i can begin to put into words.

again everybody’s different but for me one of the biggest things is when disability stuff just… isn’t a big deal to the other person. which, it’s totally okay for you to need support from others when someone you care about is going through a hard time & when things change! but abled people are constantly horrified about like, every aspect of my life, so being able to talk casually about symptoms & somebody mirror the mood / tone i set – laugh if i’m joking, be upset about the ableism i experience & not my body itself if i’m complaining about people being weird about it, taking things as they come – is so affirming.

other things that have been helpful + meaningful for me are friends sending me notes, stickers, & art in the mail – having something tangible can make me feel more “real” & part of the world, something i struggle with due to being homebound – & peer support around medical neglect, which often just looks like talking to someone after a doctor’s appointment & them reaffirming my reality / experiences & saying i didn’t deserve to be treated that way.

oh one other change in language i’ve made over time & probably picked up from a few other ill people in my life is a sort of realistic encouragement – there’s not necessarily anything wrong with “i hope you feel better soon!” because like, i get that the message is well-intentioned, but it can be awkward & difficult to receive when you don’t know if that’s gonna happen. instead, i try to tell people something like “i hope you get a bit of relief soon” or “i hope things are a little easier tomorrow.” a 7/10 pain day may be horrifying for most people, but when you’ve had a streak of 9s, it can be a much-needed taking the edge off, & i try to make space for that breadth of experience in my language.

i’ve answered a few similar questions before so i’ll add my “asks” & “faq” tags on my chronic illness blog in the reblogs if you want to browse! much love to you & your friend and feel free to lmk if you have any other questions 💓💓

#asks #chronic illness

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jamespotterthefirst · 11 months

Text

You & I (2/3)

Book: Open Heart, beyond

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende-Ramsey)

Word count: 1.3K

Rating/ Warning: Teen/ Language

Series: You & I | Part 1

Premise: Her husband’s colleague seems a bit too interested in him. Dread sets in when they have to go on a work trip together. Determined to fix things, Lilac decides to surprise him in New York.

Note: Thank you so much to everyone who read and supported Part 1! This is based on a really old anon who asked: “has anyone every come between Ethan and Lilac?”

“He said that?” asked an outraged Laurel, flying from her seat. “I’ll kill him.”

“While I appreciate the solidarity, I don’t want you to make me a widow,” Lilac replied quite calmly. “And besides, Ethan is on an airplane right now, safely out of your reach.”

“He’s landing soon,” Laurel challenged menacingly.

“What are you going to do? Drive to New York just to kick his ass?”

“I’ve done it before. Just ask Griselda.”

Despite the somber tone of the previous conversation, both sisters stared at each other, then snorted with laughter. They dissolved into a full fit of body-wracking laughter that rang around Laurel’s tiny apartment. Surely, Mrs. Hart, her sister’s grumpy neighbor, would have a lot to complain about. By the time they sobered up, they both had tears in their eyes.

As their humor evaporated like a wisp of smoke, her sister surveyed her quite seriously.

“All joking aside, are you alright?”

Lilac sank back into the plush backrest of the armchair.

“Not really,” she confessed. “I feel like a total idiot for even bringing it up to him. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Lilita, stop.”

“I'm serious, Lau. After he left, I just felt like I overreacted.”

“You're not overreacting. You're actually being very level-headed about this all.”

“I'm trying to be. It's just that… this Heather person gives me a bad feeling. Not just her remarks, or the way she acts around me… It's also the way she looks at Ethan. I even heard one of the nurses at Kenmore tell her she was Ethan's 'work wife'. Heather laughed and looked like she loved the title.”

“What?!”

The word rang out around the apartment with all her outrage.

“Ma, are you okay?” A concerned Diego asked from his room.

“I'm fine, baby. Just talking to your tía.”

They could hear the music of his video game resume.

“I know the 'work wife' thing is a playful thing people do at work—”

“Fuck no!” Laurel was on her feet again, face bright pink with fury by now. “That's not okay! Even if it's a playful thing— if someone said that about Tobias at work, they would find out real fast that I don't play like that. Does Ethan know?”

“I don't know. I didn't want to bring it up since I already felt crazy and like a stereotypical jealous wife. I hate feeling this way.”

Laurel, noticing her sister's anguish, relaxed and sat next to her.

“Bullshit,” Laurel supplied. “He’s your husband. You’re allowed to talk to him about these things, even if you have no proof. Even if all that comes from it is him listening to you vent.”

Lilac nodded, feeling reassured. “That's all I was trying to do. He could tell something was wrong and I was just being honest.”

“Exactly! He shouldn't blame you for being open or make you think it's all in your head. I don't know why he was being such a—” Laurel stopped, searching for an adequate enough word to describe Ethan’s behavior. “— such a pendejo!”

Lilac allowed a small smile.

“I laid it all out minutes before he had to catch his flight. If anything, I think we just needed more time to talk it out. And now we’re stuck in this weird limbo.”

Her sister considered this, nodding slowly as though deep in thought. Then, her eyebrows shot up the same way they did any time she had a brilliant idea. Over three decades of experience assured Lilac that said brilliant idea would veer on the side of recklessness.

“New York is a drivable distance away…”

“Yes, we went through that when you threatened to rip my husband’s head off.”

“What if we go?”

The silence that followed was so long that Lilac could hear Mrs. Hart television through the wall.

“Are you—”

“Hear me out,” her sister offered, on a mission now. “We go and surprise him. You’ll get your chance to talk things out after all of his boring doctor conferences. Then, when all is said and done, you can have amazing make-up sex and a little vacation.”

Lilac considered the idea. It was spontaneous and a bit outlandish, but it sounded a hell of a lot better than sitting around, agonizing and counting down the hours for Ethan’s return. A long sigh announced her acquiescence.

“Fine,” Lilac agreed. “But don’t think you’re fooling me. You also want to go because Tobias is there.”

“Getting mind-blowing sex is only a bonus, little sis. My priority is you.”

“Thanks,” Lilac said dryly. “If we’re doing this, we should head out soon. It’s almost four hours to New York if we’re lucky.”

Laurel winked. “I’ll get us there in three.”

As it turned out, Laurel was not exaggerating in her estimated arrival time. Once they dropped off Diego, Laurel's son, with a close friend, they hit the highway at borderline illegal speed. Laurel zoomed around traffic with the confidence of an LA driver and the brazen abandon she was starting to learn from what they called "Massholes." It wasn’t until the unmistakable and breathtaking New York City skyline loomed closer that Lilac finally relaxed.

“What hotel are they in again?”

“The Hard Rock on 48th.”

Laurel nodded diligently and started their trek through the city traffic. Predicting the journey would be long and arduous, Lilac took out her phone to text her husband. To her surprise, three dots bounced on the screen indicating he was already writing to her.

The flutter of hope that his messages catalyzed turned into sickening anxiety as they pulled into the hotel's valet parking. Her sister, ever the mind reader, reached over and squeezed her shoulder with a reassuring smile.

“You two will be alright,” she told her. “You always are. You'll fix this one way or another.”

Lilac gave her sister a small nod before they climbed out of the car and entered the luxurious lobby of the hotel. A charming man, dressed in an elegant black suit, smiled at them as they approached the counter. When Lilac gave him Ethan's name, his smile turned knowing.

“Ah, yes, Dr. Ramsey,” he said, looking at his screen. “We just received the request to accommodate you in your husband's suite.”

Lilac frowned. Beside her, Laurel looked equally puzzled.

“Did you tell him you were coming?”

“I told him I was sending a surprise to his room.”

Laurel snorted. “Then he figured it out. You forget you married a genius.”

After receiving her room key from the attendant, they found the assigned rooms with ease. Luckily for Laurel, Tobias's room was on the same floor. Lilac, on the other hand, wasn't convinced that was a good thing.

“Don't worry,” Laurel teased when Lilac expressed this. “You won't see us all weekend.”

Lilac rolled her eyes as they stepped out from the elevator.

“Do you need me to help you find Ethan's room?”

“I got it,” Lilac assured her. “You can go and change into whatever you brought to surprise Tobias.”

Her sister gladly accepted the dismissal. With one quick and enthusiastic hug, Laurel headed the opposite direction. Ethan's room, as it turned out, was only a few doors from where the sisters parted ways.

With a final deep breath, Lilac inserted the key into the lock. The tiny machinery rumbled to life, the light flickering on and settling on red. She tried it again, only to receive the same error.

“Dammit.”

As she grew more and more frustrated, she decided her card must've been too close to her phone in her purse, deactivating it. With a small growl, she gave up, dreading the trip downstairs to reactivate it. Before she could move a muscle, however, the doorknob moved from inside the room.

Lilac barely had enough time to consider that maybe her husband was back early, when the door opened.

It was not Ethan.

Not even close.

“Ethan, I've been waiting for hours. You'll never believe—”

The words died, replaced by a surprised little gasp.

There, staring back at her in shock clad in nothing but a towel, was Heather Finnegan.

Note: See you guys next week with Part 3!

Also, yes, the title You & I is the 1D song lol

Thank you so much for reading!

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices

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tangledbea · 3 months

Note

I’ve heard some people complain about the pacing of season 1 in TTS, saying that there were too many filler episodes with not enough plot relevant episodes to balance it. Do you agree?

I don't believe in "filler episodes" for situations like this. That's a term that was coined to refer to anime that was being released at the same time as the manga it was based on. When the anime caught up to the manga, it had to make divergent plots while that manga continued to be worked on, thus filling time until they could follow the manga's plot again.

In regards to TTS, people say that they aren't plot relevant episodes, but almost every one of them includes something that comes up later on, or helps to develop a character (or characters). What they mean is "doesn't talk about the black rocks" or more often, "doesn't have Varian in it". Those are not the only two things in S1 that count as "plot".

#Tangled #Tangled the Series #TTS #Season One #Answered

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coldtwaer · 4 months

Text

To deal with a Karen

(or “a subversion of the ‘eat the underpaid worker’ trope")

Tags: One-shot, Vore, M/F Vore, open-ended Vore (fatal or non-fatal based on preference), Same size Vore, Stores, Karens, Revenge

Warnings: Language, Very small amount of prey discrimination (don’t worry the one who does it gets what she deserves >:) )

Word count: 1275

Rowan hated his job.

It was even more annoying that his coworker and surprisingly friend, Dennis, was being especially cheerful on one of the days when Rowan would rather be at home or doing anything else.

“Good morning my favorite manager!” Dennis waved with a smile on his face. There was no telling why the man was so nice. Especially when he worked a 9 to 5 at a shitty supermarket.

“Good morning, Dennis” Rowan replied with a small grumble. There was nothing ‘good’ about this morning, but he didn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings. Well, crush’s feelings, but he would never admit to that.

Dennis looked like he wanted to continue the conversation so Rowan quickly added “We have a lot to do so get to work”

With a small sigh, Dennis nodded and went to his cash register to ring up the early bird customers. Rowan dug his black and red faded hair as he looked at his coworker doing his job, in some ways that positivity felt contagious. But he couldn’t think too hard about that right now. After all, there was work to be done

—-

The morning went on normally and turned into the afternoon. Rowan went to the break room to have his lunch break, which was a relief because he was starving. His stomach growled to confirm the fact. He started digging through his bag to try and find where he had put his lunch in the first place. But there was a problem, a major problem. It wasn't there.

“Shit” Rowan muttered with frustration. Of course, this just had to happen on the same day he skipped out on breakfast since he had already been running late. Well, there wasn’t much he could do about it now and he didn’t want to leave Dennis and his other coworker Luka on their own just so he could get something to eat since even going to his house and back would take longer than the measly ten minutes allotted to him. However his hunger did put a thought in his head that he did not like.

“No, I will not be eating my coworkers” Rowan put a hand on his stomach and tried to soothe it the best he could. He knew that as a pred these kinds of thoughts were normal but it didn’t make them feel any less weird. Then again it wasn’t like he had never swallowed someone down before.

Before he could continue to complain internally about his gnawing hunger, he heard a fuss going on outside the break room. It sounded like some kind of argument. Rowan peeked his head through the door to see what was going on which he found out very quickly when he looked over at Dennis’s cashier station and saw a woman yelling at the colorful-haired man.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited in this line just for you to tell me this coupon is expired? You shouldn’t even be selling these cheap quality things for the price you are.” The Karen said as she put her hands on her hips

“I’m sorry Miss but I can’t control the price of the item or that the coupon is expired” Dennis’s smile was clearly forced at this point which probably meant that this conversation hadn’t been pleasant from the start. Rowan frowned at the fact that such a good person has to deal with people like this customer.

“Well as someone who works here, you should know how to properly accommodate customers. Or maybe I should just get your manager” the woman said with a huff.

Rowan scowled as he debated whether he should intervene but Dennis had dealt with plenty of rude customers before so he decided to trust his skills but he would keep watching just in case.

“The manager is currently attending to other matters right now so he will not be able to help you anymore than I can” Dennis's eyes went towards the break room where he and Rowan made eye contact for just a moment.

Those gentle green eyes Dennis must have some kind of power because even though it was brief, that look was enough to make Rowan’s heart beat faster.

“Well, you aren’t doing anything to help me! Honestly, if they must hire prey like you they could at least choose competent ones” the Karen bluntly stated

Dennis froze at her words and his eyes became a bit teary.

“I’m sorry Miss…” he looked down.

That was it. That was the last thing this woman would

say to Dennis. Rowan had made up his mind. He quickly walked to the station and behind the counter.

“Excuse me, I’m the manager, may I help you?” Rowan asked as he made sure to gently move Dennis further behind him to discourage him from dealing with the situation any further.

“Yes! You see I-“

“Yes, I know about your problems with the item price, your coupon, and apparently my coworker. And you know what? I think I have a solution that will work for both of us” Rowan gave a smile.

He then turned to go from behind the counter but before he fully exited he discreetly whispered to Dennis. “Sorry to do this to you but I need to ‘deal’ with this customer so I need you to watch the store for a bit” his stomach growled.

“Uh, okay, at least don’t be too mean” Dennis whispered back.

Rowan sighed and reluctantly nodded before making his way to the woman. “This way please, I will help you as quickly as possible.”

——

Inside the break room, there was a small office room for the manager to do paperwork. Aka Rowan. He brought the woman inside and made sure to close the door behind him. “There should be some coupons over there on that desk for you to pick from,” he said keeping the same facade.

“Thank god someone here sees reason. You must be a pred like me” The woman made her way to the desk which meant her back was now facing him. Perfect.

“ I don’t see any coupons here,” the woman said with confusion in her voice.

Rowan laughed. His black painted nails sharpened into claws before they pieced the woman’s arms and injected their venom. “And you won’t find any” he replied.

“What the – I can’t move! “ the woman panicked.

“That’s the point, it’s been a while since I’ve eaten another pred so I don’t need you thrashing around too much.” Rowan licked his lips as his stomach groaned and whined for this woman to be in it sooner.

Rowan wanted to tell off this woman for what she had said and done but he remembered what Dennis had told him. Damn, that pretty man. So he simply opened his mouth wide and brought her in.

The woman's paralyzed body made it easy to swallow and she practically slid down his throat. He lifted his head and started to use gravity to help push her down. Eventually, he was able to finish.

He took some deep breaths and he held his now heavy stomach. “There you go…right where people like you belong”

His stomach gave an appreciative gurgle for the woman that was now inside it. Rowan sat down on the swivel chair that was by the desk and started rubbing his stomach with one hand and he rested his head on the other. It felt good to be full.

He decided that he would relax for now since eating her still had taken a lot out of him. He thought about Dennis, about those green eyes…

Rowan hated his job…sometimes.

#vore blog #sfw vore #v.ore #vore writing #soft vore #same size vore #open ended vore #vore story #male pred #female prey #unwilling prey #willing pred #v0re

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